They came in pairs. One would have red eyes and be rubbing his or her bottom, and the companion was steering them along and trying to console them. �...It must be painful,” Charlene whispered to me as one woman passed us by still crying. I didn’t think that was a helpful comment. Not when I was minutes away from the caning. Still, I didn’t think Charlene said it on purpose. We both entered the changing area and I went over to the desk. “Number?” the Officer demanded. She was a self-important. In the cabin, before the fireplace Sasha was fighting her own personal war. She felt like a cross between a little girl and a full grown woman, she wanted her Papa to hold her, tell her the old stories, tuck her into bed but part of her wanted to feel his stiffness, the hardness she'd felt the previous night, she wanted to climb into his bed, she wanted him to love her, love her like a woman; open her, split her, even hurt her the first time, there had to be a first time but then she would be. More

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